


The Jack o' the Lantern Affair

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: Spies and the supernatural [5]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: M/M, Supernatural Elements, halloween fic, light slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-10 09:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12296373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: When a struggle with THRUSH over an old book of scary lore releases the spirit of legendary trickster Stingy Jack, Jack chooses Napoleon and Illya as his adversaries and challenges them to out-trick him.  But Illya wants no part of it, and Napoleon has no idea what he’s up against–and their inability to stop Jack could result in dire consequences.





	1. Act I: It Took Place in a New York Cemetery

**Author's Note:**

> This is my annual Halloween fic, and is a slash version of the gen version I'm posting on FFN. Illya's attitude towards the supernatural was taken from the official novel _The Vampire Affair_ ; despite not being a believer, he is clearly unsettled by strange happenings—especially when Napoleon's safety is involved. And lastly, the legend of Stingy Jack is a real Irish legend that explains the origins of the jack-o-lantern.

“Am I the only one who finds it awkward to be having a gunfight in a cemetery?” Illya muttered, as he and Napoleon sought cover behind a mausoleum against a pair of THRUSHies. “It seems so disrespectful to the dead.”

“You’re not alone; if I could move this fight, I would,” Napoleon said. “But THRUSH were the ones who fired on us—and we didn’t tell them to come here.”

“We did instigate the fight, trying to obtain that stolen book from them,” Illya admitted. “We still need to obtain it.” He dodged a THRUSH bullet and winced as it deflected against the mausoleum wall, causing a slight nick in the stone, and he cast a quick apology to the occupants of the mausoleum.

“A book that ancient looks like it’ll fall apart before we’re through with this fight,” Napoleon mused. “There must be something coded in there—why else would they be after a beat-up, old volume?”

“It could have some sort of value as an antiquity; perhaps they wish to sell it to obtain funds for some nefarious project.”

“Also possible,” Napoleon agreed. “But, whatever it is, they want the book, so we need to get it from them.”

He sent a well-aimed tranquilizer dart at one of the two THRUSHies, knocking the gun out of his hand and sending it into the shadows of some headstones. The unfortunate THRUSH agent’s companion, seeing that he was now a liability, proceeded to strike him on the back with the handle of his gun, took the old book from him, and bolted, expecting Napoleon and Illya to detain the unconscious one.

“Cuff that one,” Napoleon instructed Illya, indicating the fallen THRUSHie.

He took off after the fleeing one, taking a straight path and vaulting over a few headstones until he was able to tranquilize the other one. The other THRUSHie sunk to the ground, and the book landed on the grass behind him. Napoleon put a pair of handcuffs on him before picking up the book.

It was battered and used, by the looks of it, and it smelled of age. There was no title on the cover, and Napoleon was surprised to see the entire book written in ink as he paged through it. The ink was still readable, but based on the age of the book, it was safe to assume that there was no code in it.

“What’s verdict on the book?” Illya asked, as he dragged his prisoner over.

“Antiquity,” Napoleon said. “It’s a strange book—full of spooky poems and rhymes. See, look—even this little note on the first page… ‘To the one who finds this book, either place it down or take a look. As you speak it, you will unfurl beings from another world.’ What a find, considering Halloween is tomorrow!”

“THRUSH wanted to steal a book of Halloween rhymes? What sort of price would that even fetch?” Illya scoffed.

“That’s anyone’s guess,” Napoleon said, paging through it again. “We’ll send this down to evidence, and they’ll figure out what it is and what it’s worth--”

They ducked instinctively as more shots rang out.

“It’s worth plenty to them,” Illya observed, as three more THRUSHies now approached them.

The two partners each grabbed a prisoner, Napoleon also holding onto the old book as Illya once again sought refuge behind the mausoleum. Napoleon muttered as a battered page from the book fell out, floating across the cemetery as the breeze carried it away. He momentarily considered going after it, but a narrow miss from a THRUSH bullet and a shout of alarm from Illya made him think better of it, and he retreated behind the mausoleum along with his partner.

“I’m beginning to doubt the antiquity value of this book if it’s falling apart like that,” Napoleon muttered.

“…They’re chasing after the page!” Illya said, marveling as the three new THRUSHies stopped firing at them and did just that.

Napoleon shrugged and tranquilized two of the three THRUSHies; the third one launched himself at the page, missing Napoleon’s third tranquilizer. As Napoleon approached, trying to aim again, he heard the THRUSHie mutter something as he read from the page--

“‘Speak this if you wish to play my game, and I will appear when you say my name: I, the one, who tricked the Devil back: Jack ‘o the Lantern, known as Stingy Jack.’”

Napoleon was suddenly thrown off of his feet by a large gust of wind as he had approached the THRUSHie, sending him flying away several feet; the THRUSHie also was sent flying. The page also landed beside Napoleon, showing a drawing of a shadow-cloaked man holding a turnip carved into a lantern.

“Napoleon!” Illya exclaimed, running over to him. “Napoleon, are you alright?”

“I’m okay…” he said, as Illya helped him up. “But what was that!? It was like a tiny tornado whipped up right around me!”

“It was me,” a voice said.

The two looked back at the book, staring as the shadow-cloaked man with the turnip-lantern floated a few feet above them, holding the struggling THRUSHie who summoned him by the ankle, dangling him above the ground.

“What is that?” Illya snarled. “Have we been drugged by THRUSH!?”

“…Would we be seeing the same hallucination if we were both drugged?” Napoleon wondered aloud, confused. He groaned, looking at the book in his hand and the page at his feet. “This… This isn’t an old book about spooky poems and rhymes, is it?”

“Not at all, my good man,” the being responded. “’Tis a book that can open a doorway to another world—a world where I was trapped, but now, thanks to you and your little squabble, I am free. Jack is the name.”

“…Stingy Jack,” Napoleon realized. “Ok, no… This… This isn’t happening. Illya, you’re right; we’re both seeing things.”

“Rest assured, Mr. Solo,” Jack. “’Tis quite real. You see, I had tricked Ol’ Scratch twice in me lifetime—made him promise he could never claim my soul. Heaven didn’t want me, and Ol’ Scratch said he couldn’t go back on his word. I wandered aimlessly, tricking all I encountered, until the Devil trapped me in that other world. A loophole—he could not claim me, yet there was no agreement about whether or not he could do that.”

“And so now, you are free, and you are going to wander around aimlessly again?” Illya said. “Very well, do so and do not trouble us.”

“I will not be cast aside and forgotten!” Jack snarled at him. “No longer will I wander aimlessly—this world will answer to me now--!”

BANG.

Napoleon, taking advantage of Jack’s monologue, had fired his Special at him, but the tranquilizer dart phased right through him.

“My dear Mr. Solo,” Jack tutted. “I could have told you that you would not be able to stop me that way. I was going to let you be, but you need to be taught a lesson. And so, I will use you as an instrument in my plan.”

“You will not touch him,” Illya said, coldly. “I do not know who you or what you are—everything logical says that you should not exist. But no matter what you are, you will not lay a hand on my partner.”

“So defensive of your lover. How intriguing. Perhaps I can use both of you,” Jack mused. “Very well, Gentlemen, the die is cast—if you can outwit me before the first sunrise after All Hallow’s Eve, I will admit defeat.”

“We do not have to accept this challenge of yours!” scoffed Illya. “We did not summon you!”

“ _You_ do not,” Jack agreed. He glanced at the THRUSHie he was holding. “But _he_ does. He was the one who set me free. …Unless you wish to take my challenge in his stead, the world will have to depend on him!” He gave the THRUSHie a shake, and the man began to whimper and plead to be let down.

“Then let it depend on him!” Illya fumed, unfeeling. “Come, Napoleon; this does not concern us! THRUSH summoned him, so this is their problem! Let them pay the price for meddling!”

“As much as I want to,” Napoleon said. “It’s in our job description to clean up THRUSH’s messes.”

“Not for things like this…” Illya said. “…Whatever this is! What is the worst that can happen?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Jack sneered. “Most of that book really is idle lore and poetry, but some of them are actual spells that open the gateway to the world where I was banished. Who knows what I can do with the knowledge of those spells?”

Napoleon scowled.

“He is trying to bait you,” Illya said. “Leave him be, Napoleon; this is not our fight. Once he is done making a nuisance of himself, he will go away.”

“…Do you really believe that?” Napoleon asked.

Illya looked at him, helplessly.

“Whether I do or not believe that, I do know that I do not want anything to happen to you. Napoleon, I love you, and the last time we dealt with something unexplainable, I nearly lost you forever.” The Russian’s heart twisted in his chest as he recalled the time Napoleon had been possessed. It pained him to admit it, but he was afraid—afraid of having to face things he couldn’t explain with rational logic, and afraid of what those things could do to his beloved Napoleon. “Napoleon… You do not have to take up the call for every little thing that goes wrong, especially when it is… something like this.”

Napoleon understood what Illya was trying to say. Illya still had trouble believing in things he couldn’t explain, and after their past experiences with such things, Napoleon certainly couldn’t blame him for it.

“I love you, too, Illya,” he said. “You know that. But I have this feeling that Jack isn’t going to stop acting out until we do something about it—or at least, if I do.” Napoleon looked back at Jack, and he let out a yelp as Jack began hoisting up the panicking THRUSHie he was holding even higher into the air. “Hey! _Hey_! You put him down right now!” He caught his choice of words. “ _Gently_!”

Jack giggled.

“I don’t feel so inclined to release this fellow,” Jack mused. “I’ll find some use for him—the other one, too. …Or, how about a deal, eh? You give me the book for this fellow here?”

“Shut up,” Napoleon grumbled, flipping through the book, looking for something that would help. “Okay, hopefully this will work to send him back—Illya, get ready to catch that THRUSHie after I do this.”

Illya wasn’t so sure; Jack looked more smug rather than concerned about going back to a realm where he’d been imprisoned.

“Napoleon, wait…” he said. “Napoleon, please, don’t do this—let’s just walk away--”

“Look, he wants the book so that we can’t use it to send him back—so that’s just what we’ve got to do. We put an end to this, and nobody gets hurt.” Napoleon cleared his throat. “‘Where the foulest trickster’s once escaped, that door will open once again—a world that is the perfect prison, full of darkness and of pain.’”

Though the sky was clear, a crack of thunder filled the air as a dark, shadowy portal appeared in the sky beside Jack. Napoleon glanced up at him in triumph, but his look soon switched to one of sheer horror as, instead of Jack being pulled into the portal, a hoard of agonized-looking spirits burst forth from the portal.

“Napoleon!” Illya yelled. 

“…Did I mention that some of those verses were written by myself?” Jack said, grinning down at them. “Failsafes.”

“Napoleon, he tricked us!” Illya fumed.

“No, he tricked _me_ ,” Napoleon said. He began to page through the book again. “I think we have to figure out which are the real verses and which ones are by him; that’s the key to this whole thing.”

“Napoleon—!” Illya cried.

“You should have listened to your lover, Mr. Solo!” Jack taunted, as now ambulatory skeletons emerged from the portal, walking across the cemetery.

“That isn’t even possible!” Illya fumed. “Bones cannot move without musculature! It is basic anatomy!” 

“Never mind that—we have to close the portal!” Napoleon said. “Ah… Okay, here… ‘An easy answer to a problem posed; that which was opened is now closed.’”

To his immense relief, the portal closed, but it did nothing to stop the spirits and skeletons that were already loose; as Jack cackled, flying off while dragging the screaming THRUSHie he was carrying, the other tranquilized THRUSHies were being carted off by the creatures, as well. And the skeletons were advancing upon Napoleon and Illya, as well.

“Napoleon, we must run!” Illya said.

“But the other THRUSHies--”

“ _Forget them_!” Illya said. He let out a shout as a wailing spirit dove at them from the sky, and, desperate, he tackled Napoleon out of the way. The book went flying out of Napoleon’s hands.

“No!”

Napoleon made a grab for the book, but one of the skeletons seized it first, leering at him with its empty eyes.

“Leave it!” Illya ordered, pulling his partner to his feet and practically dragging him out of the cemetery.

Seeing no practical way to retrieve the book, Napoleon had no choice but to go along with Illya, wishing he had listened to his partner and not attempted to play Jack’s twisted game, which had only made everything worse.

“Oh, Illya…” he sighed. “What have I done…?”


	2. Act II: Darkness Falls Across the Land

Napoleon was practically inconsolable once they made it back to where they had left their car.

“I messed up, Illya; I really messed up…” he said.

“You had no way of knowing that things would turn out like this,” Illya said. “Napoleon, see, this is why we are not the ones to fight this fight.”

“Jack wants to match wits with us—with me,” Napoleon said. “This is my fight, whether I like it or not.”

“It does not have to be your fight!” Illya suddenly exclaimed, causing Napoleon to look at him in surprise. “Why does it always have to be your fight? First those two spirits who looked like us, and now this… thing!? This is not in our job description, Napoleon! We stop THRUSH—we are not ones to deal with things like this!”

“Lionheart and Kid were definitely our fight…”

“Fine, I will grant you that…” Illya admitted. “But all those other things… that place in Brooklyn we went to, and then that house with that mirror…” He cursed under his breath. “We should not have had to deal with them!”

“Illya…”

“Please, listen to what I have to say, Napoleon,” Illya pleaded. “When it comes to dealing with THRUSH, I am always the one right behind you, ready to go into the fray. Aside from a few exceptions, I know what to expect from THRUSH and how to deal with those things. But when it comes to things like this… I do not know what to expect, and I feel so powerless against them.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“…What would you have said about your partner being afraid of things that go bump in the night?” Illya replied, bitterly. “I am sorry, Napoleon; I know such craven behavior isn’t like me, but… I have come too close to losing you too many times at the hands of these unknown things…” He cringed as, from the car, he could see the spirits departing the cemetery, and the mobile skeletons following them on foot; one of them still had the book in its hands, while the others were dragging the THRUSHies.

Jack, silhouetted against the moonlight, accepted the book from the skeleton carrying it with an eager giggle.

“Down,” Napoleon ordered, pulling Illya to the floor of the car to avoid being seen.

Illya clung to him; from their vantage point, they could see Jack opening the book and reading from it.

“Pity this gibbous moon prevents a werewolf from being summoned,” he said. “No matter; there are others who can track down those two…”

Napoleon exhaled.

“He’s summoning more… things,” he said.

“Then let’s get out of here.”

“Illya, I really don’t think he’s going to be satisfied until we play more of his sick and twisted game.”

“Napoleon, _please_ …” Illya whispered. “There are people better versed in this sort of knowledge than we are—he will find one of them, challenge them, and will forget all about us. Drive, Napoleon.”

“Okay, we’ll go home,” Napoleon promised, taking note that Illya was asking him to drive when, normally, he usually did the driving. “And we’ll try to figure out how to write out the mission report.”

“ _Bozhe Moy_ , I forgot…” Illya muttered. “How do we explain this in the mission report!?”

“…I really don’t know,” Napoleon said. “As much as you hate dealing with the unexplained, Mr. Waverly hates _hearing_ about it.”

“And losing five THRUSH prisoners will not go over well with him in spite of any explanation we give,” Illya said. He held his breath as Napoleon started the car; Jack was still focused on the book and didn’t seem to notice them as Napoleon pulled away.

At least, it seemed that way—until a large, fanged goblin landed on the hood of the car. Napoleon let out a yell and swerved the car to shake the thing off; he succeeded, but the goblin was running after them—joined by several other goblins and other bizarre creatures that were swarming all over parked cars, breaking into the windows and stealing things, cackling mischievously.

Napoleon hesitated for a moment, casting a glance at Jack still leering at them, silently daring them to take his challenge before stepping on the gas and shooting ahead of the crowd of goblins.

Napoleon only stopped for traffic lights, and, eventually, they made it home, the both of them collapsing onto the bed in exhaustion.

“What do you think is going to happen?” Napoleon asked.

“Well, even here in New York, there is no way all of those… things will go unnoticed,” Illya said. “Someone capable of handling them will be called—or, perhaps, even be one to see them. Whoever it is will handle this, and all will be restored to normal.”

“…I really, really hope you’re right,” Napoleon said. “But I’ve got this feeling in my gut that says that our part of this isn’t done.”

Illya just shook his head, suppressing a shudder; Napoleon gently wrapped his arms around him, and the two of them soon dozed off from their exhaustion. They didn’t get to sleep very long, however; they were awakened not even three hours later by their communicators going off.

Illya cursed in his native tongue as Napoleon lazily grabbed his communicator.

“Solo here… in a manner of speaking,” he mumbled.

“Mr. Solo!” Waverly’s voice spoke, sternly, over the channel. “I need you and Mr. Kuryakin here _immediately_!”

Napoleon checked his watch and groaned as he saw that it was only 2:30 in the morning.

“What was that, Mr. Solo?”

“Nothing, Sir; nothing at all. We’re on our way!” Napoleon signed off and shook Illya’s shoulder. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty; we’ve been summoned. And Mr. Waverly sounds very upset about something…” He trailed off as he saw one of the spirits from the graveyard floating past the bedroom window. “…And I think I know what.”

Illya shook his head, but went along with Napoleon as they headed to the office. The air was full of spirits; though the skeletons hadn’t made it this far uptown yet, it was enough to be causing a stir among the citizens of New York.

The duo stopped off at their office first, stopping in their tracks as they saw one of the goblins—a small one—shuffling sideways and squeaking in a panic as their cat, Baba Yaga, pursued it angrily, hissing at it.

“…Did I just see what I think I saw?” Napoleon asked.

As if to answer his question, an even smaller goblin side-stepped past them while being pursued by Sergei, one of Baba Yaga’s four kittens.

“…Yes. Yes, I did just see that…”

“How did those things even get in here!?” Illya demanded.

“Probably through an air duct,” Napoleon said. “And I’m certain Jack had something to do with it.”

“We cannot let Mr. Waverly see those things,” Illya said.

“Then we’d better move fast, Tovarisch, because his office is down there.”

Illya facepalmed as the two of them took off down the corridor; they had lost track of the cats and saw Waverly beckoning them inside to his office. Neither of them knew what to say until they saw Victor Marton wearing a visitor’s badge and sitting at the circular table.

“You!?” fumed Illya. “I should have known you had something to do with this!”

“Monsieur Kuryakin, I am a victim in all of this,” Marton said. “Would Alexander let me sit here if I was responsible?”

“Victor here claims that an antique book was stolen from him by some of his THRUSH colleagues,” Waverly said. “He further claims that they are responsible for the… current state of panic in the city.”

“In that case, Sir, why do you need us?” Illya asked.

“Because I have found out that the thieving scum last reported in to say that the two of you were on their tails,” Marton said. “This book, Messieurs, belongs to a distant cousin of mine—a cousin who, I am told, shares a great family resemblance to myself. And I was in the process of organizing its return to him just before it was stolen.”

“We saw the book,” Napoleon said. “And we saw the THRUSHies. And that’s all we can say about it.”

The words were barely out of his mouth as Baba Yaga and Sergei came in, chasing the two goblins. They circled the room twice and ran out.

“Are you quite certain of that, Mr. Solo?” Waverly asked.

“Ah… no, Sir. It would seem that the THRUSHies released…” He trailed off.

“Gentlemen, I understand that my feelings towards the unexplained in your reports are always met with derision,” Waverly admitted. “That is because I cannot believe something so incredible when I haven’t seen it with my own eyes. But I cannot deny what is in front of my face—nor can any of us.”

“I do not deny what is in front of my face, either, Sir,” Illya said. “But I must say that we are woefully unprepared to handle things of this nature, and I strongly feel as though we are not the ones for this task! Marton seems to be the only one who knows anything about what’s going on!”

“ _Au contraire_ , I know as much as you do; it is my cousin who knows what to do,” Marton said. “My private line was tapped by those five men you encountered as I was speaking to my cousin; he warned me about Stingy Jack… Those fools listening in arrogantly expected to be able to control him, and planned to summon him. I presume his release has caused all of this?” He indicated a spirit floating outside the window, leering at them.

“That would be correct,” Napoleon said. “So, ah, if your cousin seems to know so much about this, why can’t he clean up this mess?”

“He lives in Tibet.”

“…We’ll fly him out here,” Illya said, coldly.

“But there will not be time,” Marton says. “According to my cousin, if Jack is not stopped by the sunrise after All Hallow’s Eve, then he and whatever else has been called forth will remain here until this time next year!”

“Gentlemen, I think we can agree on one thing,” Waverly said. “Even if we do not fully understand what is going on, we cannot allow it to continue for a year.”

“But how are we supposed to stop a legendary trickster who, according to legend, tricked the Devil himself?” Napoleon asked.

Any reply was interrupted by the spirit outside pushing its way into the office with an unearthly wail. Illya let out a cry of alarm, clinging to Napoleon, who held onto him, too. Marton stood up, placing himself between the spirit and Waverly—an action that was undoubtedly an instinct from their old days as partners, reviving itself once again.

But Illya’s shout had caught the ear of Baba Yaga, who came angrily rushing into the room, followed by her son, Sergei. The two cats leaped onto the circular table, hissing and yowling angrily at the spirit. To everyone’s surprise, the spirit howled again and phased back through the window. Sergei seemed satisfied and bounded out of the room to look for the goblins he’d been chasing before, but Baba Yaga remained, her tail lashing angrily.

“Legend has it,” Marton said, after an awkward silence. “During the days of ancient Egypt, cats were regarded as sacred beings partly because of their connection to Bastet, who, among several duties, served as a protector against evil spirits. …Your cat is an Egyptian Mau, isn’t she?”

They nodded, but neither Napoleon nor Illya were going to inform him that not only was she an Egyptian Mau, but she had come to them after Napoleon had made a wish to Bastet hours before they had found her.

“Be that as it may,” Waverly said. “The latest reports of this… activity seem to be coming from an old house in Brooklyn.”

“…Exactly what are you saying, Sir?” Illya asked. “Are you ordering us to go?”

“If it comes to that, yes,” Waverly replied, flatly. “Too many people wouldn’t be effective, so I have to send the best I have. I suggest you focus on retrieving the book first, and then figuring out a way to stop that menace and reverse the damage done before it’s too late. We’ll try to contact Victor’s cousin in the meantime.”

Illya exhaled, taking Baba Yaga in his arms, looking away as Napoleon reassured Waverly that they would do their best. Napoleon kept his arm around Illya as they left the office, and waited until they were out of earshot before speaking again.

“Look, Illya, I know you don’t want any part of this… So you can stay here—or at home. I’ll go to Brooklyn and get the book back, and then meet up with you to figure out what to do next.”

Illya responded by giving Napoleon a kiss.

“You are the best partner I could ever ask for—you do everything possible to ensure my comfort and happiness. But it isn’t just my dislike of getting tangled in these things. I fear them, yes… But I fear losing you most of all. You appear to be right that we cannot escape dealing with these things.” He looked Napoleon in the eyes. “If that is so, then let’s take our chances against them together.”

Napoleon nodded.

“You’re one in a million, Illya,” he said. “Ah, are we taking Baba Yaga with us?”

The cat immediately became very vocal, and any attempts Illya made at putting her on the floor ended with her clinging to him.

“It would appear so,” Illya said, clearly not thrilled about it.

“Then let’s hope she can tap into her ma’s powers of spirit-repellant again,” Napoleon said. “I have a feeling we’re going to need all the help we can get.”


	3. Act III: The Devil and Napoleon Solo

It was soon apparent, as they drove to Brooklyn, that the numerous alley cats of the city were doing their job to repel the invading spirits from nearby areas, in spite of not being pure Egyptian Maus.

That still didn’t alleviate Illya’s concerns as they arrived at the old Adelo House in Brooklyn; it was a house that dated back to the 1700s and had long said to have been haunted. In retrospect, it seemed like the perfect place for Jack to set up his base of operations, and, sure enough, as they approached, they saw a greater concentration of ghosts, as well as more skeletons, goblins, and what looked like twisted zombie-like creatures that leered at them with empty eyes.

Illya answered his communicator as it went off.

“Kuryakin here…”

“Mr. Kuryakin?” Waverly said. “We’ve spoken to Victor’s cousin.”

“What did he say?”

“Apparently, in order to defeat Jack, you must extinguish his lantern,” Waverly instructed. “No one has ever succeeded in accomplishing this—to achieve it would be the equivalent of successfully outwitting the trickster.”

“In other words, we’d win his challenge,” Napoleon said. “So it’s as simple as that?”

“It will hardly be so simple in practice,” Marton scoffed over the channel. “One does not outwit a legendary trickster so easily.”

“Nevertheless, it’s up to the both of you,” Waverly said. “Good luck, Gentlemen.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Illya sighed.

Napoleon now pulled the car over as they approached the Adelo House; as they watched, it appeared that the creatures were coming forth from the old well in front of the house. Napoleon let out a sigh.

“I should have known…” he muttered.

“Should have known what?”

“The Witch of the Well,” Napoleon said. “It’s a silly game I used to play at school with the other kids during recess. You get one kid to play the witch, and the other kids have to get a treasure from the well without being caught by the witch—whoever got caught first was ‘dragged down the well’ and became the next witch.”

“…Where did you children learn something like _that_?” Illya asked.

“…Actually, I learned it from the older kids, and we taught it to the younger kids,” Napoleon said. “I guess, in a way, it’s kind of like these old legends, passed down from person to person. Except now they’re true—and there’s something really horrible in the well to get past.” He sighed, steeling himself. “Look, if you want to stay in the car with Baba Yaga--”

“I told you, I’m going with you,” Illya said. “But I don’t trust that old well rope; we should use the grappling hook to get down there.”

Napoleon nodded and got the grappling hook from the trunk; the two of them made sure the coast was clear before they darted to the well. Napoleon chanced a glance inside, and he winced.

“Ugh, there’s water down there…”

“Very likely stagnant—hopefully not too deep,” Illya said. He paused, glancing at Napoleon. “I can go down first and see how deep it is.”

“No, no; I’ll go first…”

“Napoleon,” Illya said, gently. “My fears of these unexplained things are more irrational than your fear of drowning. I will go first.”

Napoleon protested, but Illya insisted, and so Napoleon had to concede to let him go first. Baba Yaga perched on Napoleon’s shoulders as Illya climbed down. There was a light splash as he touched the water, and after a quiet noise of disgust, he looked up.

“It’s not deep at all!” he said. “Only about two feet, I’d say—and there’s a reason for that.”

“What’s that?”

“There’s a tunnel of some sort that goes into the hill where the house is standing on,” Illya said. “That must be where the book is.”

Napoleon climbed down now, Baba Yaga still perched on his shoulders, for the cat despised water as much as he did.

They headed down the tunnel, moving as quietly as possible; they could see the dim outlines of the zombies staring at them, but the creatures weren’t daring to come closer as Baba Yaga hissed at them.

“We’ve got to hope that Jack is also going to be repelled by Baba Yaga,” Napoleon whispered. “That might be our only chance to get that book and the lantern…” He trailed off as he heard Jack muttering under his breath.

“He’s up ahead,” Illya whispered, as the path, now drying as they walked further into the hill, sloped upwards.

“Baba Yaga and I will distract him,” Napoleon whispered back. “You go for the stuff.”

Illya nodded, and Napoleon gently held the cat in his hands. Creeping forward, they saw Jack holding the book in one hand and his lantern in the other.

“Hold it right there!” Napoleon said, charging forward.

Jack looked to him with a leer, but the look quickly changed to one of alarm as Baba Yaga screech at him; his shock at seeing the cat allowed Illya to dart forward and grab the book from his transparent hand.

Jack let out a yell of frustration and now seized Illya’s sweater collar; Illya’s face went pale, but Napoleon and Baba Yaga both saw red. The both of them yelled in fury, and Baba Yaga slipped out of Napoleon’s grasp and leaped up at Jack with a screech. Jack released Illya, and as he scrambled backwards, also dropped his turnip lantern.

Illya, now recovering from his near miss, saw it fall.

“Napoleon! Grab the lantern!”

Both Jack and Napoleon reached for it; Baba Yaga ensured that Napoleon won. Napoleon hurled it into the water that was down the path that led to the well. His moment of triumph was short-lived, however, as he saw the coal in the lantern still burning under the water.

Illya’s face fell.

“ _Nyet_ , it should have worked!” he exclaimed. “We did as Marton’s cousin instructed…”

He was cut off by Jack’s fit of the giggles.

“Oh, you shan’t beat me so easily! ‘Tisn’t an ordinary lantern—shan’t be doused by ordinary means!”

Baba Yaga screeched again, and Jack sobered up.

“Shoo the beast, and I’ll give you both a hint,” he sneered.

“She stays,” Napoleon said, darkly. “She’s our only defense against your little army of zombies and ghosts out there, and, more than that, she’s our cat, and she is the daughter of Bastet, one of the Old Gods.”

Baba Yaga hissed for emphasis, approaching closer, sending Jack floating against the wall of the cavern.

“With her here, we can wait this out as long as you can,” Napoleon said. “As soon as Illya finds a way to send you back or put that lantern out--”

He was cut off as the ground started to shake, a crack appearing in the cavern floor. Baba Yaga suddenly screeched in fright and ran to Napoleon’s arms as a large, black dog with glowing eyes emerged from the fissure.

Illya also clung to Napoleon’s arm, staring at the creature with a horrified expression. Jack, as well, looked unsettled by the appearance of the dog; he swooped over their heads, grabbed his lantern from the water, and phased through the wall of the cavern. The zombies in the tunnel were now trying to escape as the dog growled.

“What is that thing?” Illya whispered. “How did Jack summon it without the book?”

“I don’t think he did; did you see the way he ran out of here?” Napoleon whispered back.

“You’re right, Mr. Solo; Jack didn’t summon him,” a new voice said, and a man in a three-piece pinstriped suit materialized beside the dog. “Baba Yaga, daughter of Bastet? Meet Malevolent, son of Cerberus!”

“Illya, run!” Napoleon said, grabbing his partner’s hand while holding onto the frightened Baba Yaga with the other. They ran down the passageway, hearing the dog’s booming barks behind them.

Napoleon made sure Illya and Baba Yaga had made it out of the well first, and he followed; the two of them made it to the car. It was daylight by this time, and while the ghosts and zombies had hidden, the goblins were still out and about, causing trouble.

“Napoleon… that fellow looked familiar…” Illya murmured, once he had caught his breath and comforted the still upset cat.

“That’s because he was there last Halloween at Gettysburg—the man on the ghost train who introduced himself as Zero…” Napoleon said. He hadn’t said anything about it to Illya since he knew Illya wouldn’t have wanted to discuss it, but he had met Zero at a specific place in Gettysburg called Devil’s Den—a calling card, for he had suddenly realized at that moment that he had been conversing with the Prince of Darkness all that time.

Illya exhaled.

“Well, forget him and his son of Cerberus,” he said. “We need to find a way to douse Jack’s lantern before this time tomorrow.”

Napoleon exhaled.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “I’ll tell you what—you go back to headquarters and take Baba Yaga with you. Go over that book, and I’ll go to the library and do some research there.”

Illya arched an eyebrow.

“I do not want to leave you alone,” he said, flatly.

“Look, I’ll be fine—the ghosts aren’t out during the day, and these goblins can be tranquilized…” He demonstrated on the nearest goblin. “I really don’t want Baba Yaga to be out here when that dog might come back. Let’s both do our research, and we’ll meet up after lunch or something.”

Illya did not look satisfied with this explanation.

“Why can I not bring this book to the library while we research together?”

Napoleon gave Illya a long look and then kissed him.

“I have a suspicion about something, and it’s something that I need to do on my own.”

“Is it to do with that man and the dog?” Illya asked, quietly. “Did something happen in Gettysburg that I am not aware of?”

“Yes,” Napoleon admitted. “And if it is what I think it is, then I need some time alone to figure out a few things—namely, how to stop him. But someone also needs to figure out how to stop Jack, too.”

“I still think I should be with you,” Illya said. “Napoleon, if there is something going on with you, I need to be a part of it.”

“Illya--”

“I am your partner,” Illya said. “In every sense of the word. You trust me for everything else in the world; why can you not trust me with this?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Napoleon said. “If Zero is who I think he is, I don’t want him anywhere near you.”

“…You think he is the Devil.”

“…How--?”

“Because of the legend of Stingy Jack, and how that coal that lights his lantern was given to him by the Devil,” Illya said. “I realized it after the man showed up after Jack’s taunt—and how Jack wasn’t at all pleased to see him.”

“…I didn’t think you believed in the Devil,” Napoleon said.

“A lot of things have happened in the last twelve hours that I did not believe in,” Illya said, bitterly. “Why should this be any different?”

“Touché. So, will you go now?”

“And leave you to deal with him alone? I think not!” Illya said. Baba Yaga meowed. “You are coming with me to headquarters, and then we will do our research together, and, if need be, face this Mr. Zero together.”

Napoleon was momentarily overcome, and, wordlessly, dragged Illya, cat and all, into a hug. Illya hugged him back, but the moment was ruined as Zero himself spoke up, materializing in the backseat of the car.

“Mr. Solo may have resigned himself to having you along, but I would much rather our business be discussed in private,” Zero scoffed.

He snapped his fingers, and both he and Napoleon vanished into thin air. Illya momentarily stared, horrified, at the empty air his arms were now holding.

“Napoleon!?” he yelled, as Baba Yaga howled in misery. “ _Napoleon_!?”

***************************

Napoleon found himself a moment later in the middle of a Manhattan alleyway, trying to catch his breath. Trying to get his exact bearings, he looked around, and gave a horrified yelp as he saw what looked like a mirror image of himself wearing Zero’s pinstriped suit.

“Oh, come now, Mr. Solo,” the double chuckled in an echo of his voice. “There’s a dark side in you, too. You just need to embrace it.”

“No,” Napoleon hissed. “Leave me alone! What do you want from me!?”

Zero now reached for Napoleon’s chin, forcing him to look at him—still a mirror image of him.

“What do I want? You, of course! It isn’t as bad as you think, you know…” Zero snapped his fingers, and Napoleon was forced to watch as Zero set a few flames alight in his free hand. “You could have this power—and more, you know.”

“I don’t _want_ it!” Napoleon shot back, pulling away. “I have everything I could want in my life; I don’t need anything else, and I don’t need you! I don’t want _anything_ to do with you!”

“You have everything you want?” Zero asked, as Napoleon began to walk away. “But, surely you know that Jack is capable of taking that all away from you.”

Napoleon paused.

“Just what do you mean by that?”

Zero chuckled, and it sent cold shivers down Napoleon’s spine to hear his own voice sounding like that.

“Jack has it in for you, too,” he reminded him. “And he isn’t going to be satisfied with just releasing all these ghosts and ghouls; oh no… Your little family is going to be his main target. You attract a lot of attention from our sort, you know, Mr. Solo. You have a rare purity in your heart, and whichever one of us can claim it will have a prize worth boasting over. Jack bested me before; I need to have the last laugh over him, and to do that, I need you.”

“You can’t have me, Jack can’t have me, and any of ‘your sort’ can’t have me!” Napoleon shot back to the smug mirror image. “Illya has me.”

“He couldn’t even keep me from separating you!” Zero scoffed. “And he won’t be able to be of much help against Jack, either. You need me, Mr. Solo. You know that a mere mortal such as yourself can’t extinguish Jack’s lantern—not when I was the one who gave him that coal! I can’t claim Jack’s soul, but there’s nothing stopping me from sending him and his little summoned army back through that portal. Your world will be safe, just as Waverly ordered.”

“…And in exchange?” Napoleon asked.

Zero snapped his fingers, producing a contract.

“I get your soul.”

“…I thought as much,” Napoleon said, looking into the mirror image’s eyes. “No deal. I’ll figure this out with Illya’s help.”

Zero looked affronted, and even more so as Napoleon now walked out of the alley and onto the street.

“Are you so arrogant to think that way? You have no power with which to defeat Jack or extinguish the coal I gave him!” Zero bellowed, walking after him. “Or do you simply no longer care about what happens to this world?”

“I’ll always care,” Napoleon said. “That’s why I know not to take any of your offers; you’ll only make it worse.”

“What will you do when Jack goes after your beloved Russian!? What will you do then!?”

“Save him,” Napoleon threw over this shoulder.

“And who will save you!?” Zero countered.

“Illya will. See, we have this system all worked out!”

“You put too much faith in each other and refuse to see the reality of your situation!” Zero called. “You need me!”

Napoleon gritted his teeth, picked up his pace, and ran; Zero still pursued him, the echo of his own voice taunting him.

_“You need me! You need me!”_

There was a church at the end of the street. Desperate to clear Zero’s voice from his head, Napoleon ran inside, exhaling with relief at the blissful silence inside. He met the baffled vicar’s gaze and apologized for the intrusion, but the vicar sensed his distress and let him be. After a moment, he seized his communicator and called Illya, who let out a cry of relief.

“Are you alright!? _Are you alright_!?”

“I’m fine, Illya; I got away from Zero. I’m at a church on Barclay; he can’t get to me here. I’ll come back to headquarters once I catch my breath.”

“No; you stay there where you will be safe,” Illya insisted. “I will join you there.”

“Okay, good idea,” Napoleon said. “We can do our research here…” He trailed off as he saw a stoup of Holy Water on the altar. “…Holy Water… That’s it!”

“What’s it?” Illya asked, baffled.

“I think I have a way to stop Jack that doesn’t involve me signing anything of Zero’s,” Napoleon said. “Holy Water should douse that coal, shouldn’t it?”

“Napoleon, you stay there in that church and do not set foot outside until I get there,” Illya said, after a moment’s pause.

“What are you going to do?” Napoleon asked.

“Cover our bases. I’ll leave the channel open and keep talking to you until I arrive.”

“Alright, _Tovarisch_ ,” Napoleon said, confidently. “I know we can do this.”

He would show Zero, he silently vowed. There was nothing he and Illya couldn’t do together.


	4. Act IV: A Twist and a bit of a Spin

Napoleon soon figured out what Illya had meant by “covering their bases.” As the channel was left open, he heard Illya conversing with two U.N.C.L.E. agents visiting from India they’d worked with before, and they gladly gave Illya some holy water from the Ganges River that one of them had been planning to give to family in New York, agreeing that Illya’s need for it was greater.

Illya’s next stop was to meet a local Imam and obtained some holy water from him, as well, and then met with a Rabbi, who gave him a small amulet with a hamsa on the front and a Hebrew prayer on the back.

Satisfied, Illya met with Napoleon at the church, where Napoleon had already received some holy water from the vicar.

“Did you see anyone out there?” he asked.

“If you mean Zero, no,” Illya said.

“Well, er… He can change his form.”

“Of course,” Illya sighed. “Well, I do not think I was followed by Zero—I would hope not, carrying all of these.” He held up the two vials of holy water and the hamsa amulet. Napoleon handed over his vial of holy water, and Illya tied the amulet around the three vials, and Napoleon looked satisfied.

“This should be what we need to douse that lantern,” he said. “A unified front—I can’t think of anything better. Illya, you’re a genius.”

Illya gave him a wan smile, but then he sighed.

“Now we need to find Jack before we run out of time,” he said. “I hope he doesn’t think to hide until the deadline.”

“No, I don’t think he will,” Napoleon said. “He wants to cause trouble, and he wants to lure me out. He’s going to be out and about again—we just need to keep an ear out and listen for where he might be.”

Illya nodded.

“Then let’s get in the car and start searching for him again,” he said. “We can do our research in the car just to make sure.”

“Right,” Napoleon said. “…Is Baba Yaga in the car?”

“No, I left her in the office; she and her little Sergei are with George,” Illya said. “She was not pleased to be left behind, but I agree with you—I do not want her anywhere near here if that dog is going to come back.”

Napoleon nodded in agreement, and, after checking outside to make sure that Zero was nowhere near, headed to the car with Illya. As the two of them began to drive around the city, looking for any signs of Jack, Illya was paging through the book.

“The illustrations in the book align with what Marton’s cousin said,” Illya noted, as Napoleon drove. “If we extinguish his lantern, we have bested him.”

“Well, we’ve got the means to do it,” Napoleon said. “The only thing is that we only have one shot at it. We’re going to have to make it count.”

“Right,” Illya said. He then paused. “Napoleon?”

“Hmm?”

“What did Zero want to talk to you about that he couldn’t say in front of me?”

Napoleon gripped the steering wheel a bit tightly as he considered how to reply to his partner.

“He said he was willing to send Jack and his army of monsters and ghosts back to the world they’d been trapped in.”

“…I presume he would have claimed your soul had you agreed.”

“You’d be right,” Napoleon said. “I turned him down, but if this plan of ours doesn’t work, I may have to reconsider--”

“Don’t you even finish that thought!” Illya ordered.

Napoleon blinked.

“But I thought you didn’t believe--”

“As I said before, so much as happened that I don’t believe in already, but that isn’t the point,” Illya said. “The point is that you believe in it. And if you believe that the Devil wants your soul, then you cannot give it to him!”

Napoleon swallowed a lump in his throat as they continued to drive for hours past the streets; it was times like these that he hated how some of their coworkers had branded Illya as an emotionless ice prince. Illya had more compassion in his heart than most people Napoleon knew.

He was prevented from voicing these thoughts aloud, however, as their communicators went off again.

“Kuryakin here,” Illya said. “I am glad to report that we’ve found a means of dealing with the source of the problem; we just need to find him. Unfortunately, our search seems to be going nowhere.”

“Try Brooklyn, Mr. Kuryakin,” Waverly intoned. “We’ve been receiving reports of Jack being spotted off of the pier on Coney Island.”

“What is he doing?” Illya asked.

“Nothing, at the moment—he is, apparently, just floating in midair, leering at everyone. It’s quite disconcerting, according to the reports. I suggest you go there right away and enact whatever plan you have—you’ve only got until sunrise.”

“So we should ignore the party of gargoyles on the roof of the Marriott?” Napoleon intoned, taking note of them in his rearview mirror. The winged creatures had somehow gotten into one of the minibars and were drinking the spoils of their raid as they pranced around the roof.

“…I would ask if you were joking, Mr. Solo, but I fear that you aren’t,” Waverly sighed, sounding exasperated.

“He isn’t,” Illya assured him, flatly.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Waverly said. “Never mind the gargoyle party; Jack is the cause of this trouble—with these reports only just coming in, it stands to reason he wants you to find him.”

“We’re on our way, Sir,” Napoleon said, trying very hard to ignore the gargoyle hanging from a telephone line by its tail as it drank a small bottle of bourbon. He waited until Illya signed off before commenting on their situation. “You know, 40 years from now, we’ll look back on this…”

“And laugh?”

“No—we’ll wonder if we suffered a mass hallucination.”

“At this point, I would take that explanation,” Illya said. He stared as a hot dog vendor shook his fist at a pair of gargoyles that were flying off with his cart and heading towards the party on the hotel roof. “… _Gladly_. Though I know now it is too much to hope for such a thing…”

“Hang in there, Tovarisch,” Napoleon said. “We’ve got the means to stop this; let’s just do our best.”

They did their best to ignore the strange sights of creepy creatures causing trouble, as well as the other odd sights brought about by people’s reaction to the crisis (including two fully-dressed Wall Street businessmen, on their knees, using tuna and sardines to try to tempt a stray cat to come home with them for protection—no doubt after having seen it chase off a gargoyle) and headed for Brooklyn. It was as they were crossing the Brooklyn Bridge that the sun set. With the sunlight gone, the ghosts and zombies that had been forced to hide were now coming out of hiding and continuing their nefarious acts (though one skeleton proceeded to attempt to engage a fake skeleton from the façade of the Jekyll & Hyde Club in some sort of conversation that quickly got nowhere).

“Maybe you were right, and he was stalling after all,” Napoleon sighed. “He wanted his entire army out before he was willing to deal with us—why else would he suddenly show himself just before dark?”

“If it means he is afraid of us, then I am pleased with that; hopefully it means our plan is worth something,” Illya said, and he began to use a flashlight to page through the book; after a few minutes of reading, he froze in the seat.

“Napoleon…”

“What?”

“You know how we were told that we had until ‘sunrise after Halloween’ to stop Jack? There’s more, and it’s worse than we first thought.”

“Great, this is just what we needed,” Napoleon muttered, sarcastically. “How much worse can it get?”

“A blanket of shadows will block the sunlight; that will allow all of these ghosts and undead that Jack summoned to have the run of the place for an entire year,” Illya said. “Even if we could instruct all of the five boroughs to have a cat in each building, there is nothing to stop Jack and his army from moving on to other places.”

Napoleon was reminded about Zero’s taunt about whether or not he wanted to be able to save the entire world.

“We’ve got to chance it,” he said. He paused. “Illya, you know… since Baba Yaga isn’t with us and you don’t have a way of protection--”

“No, I will not stay in the car,” Illya said, cutting him off. “If anything, my carrying the book around will, hopefully, be the diversion you need…” He trailed off. “Napoleon, there he is!”

Jack giggled at them and floated off, his lantern clearly indicating his location. Napoleon struggled to keep up with him as they headed further from Coney Island.

“He’s probably heading for the Adelo House again,” Napoleon said. “He really is using that as his base.”

“We can’t go from the front; that well is there, teeming with undead and ghosts,” Illya said. “What is there in the back way, behind the house?”

“A family cemetery, also a hotbed for undead and ghosts,” Napoleon reminded him, prompting Illya to facepalm.

“Now we know why he wished to use the house,” he said. “I still say our chances are best if we come from behind, through the cemetery. They will likely not be expecting it, and we can use the stones as a way to hide.”

“Back way it is,” Napoleon said, nodding. He parked on the dirt path, several yards from the cemetery, looked around, and then got out, beckoning Illya to follow him.

Illya did so, taking the book with him.

As Napoleon had predicted, there were zombies and skeletons roaming the cemetery; the two of them darted from stone to stone. The house was in sight, and they were nearly through the graveyard when, suddenly, they heard a piercing cackle from Jack.

“Down there, you fools, down there!” he sneered, shining his lantern light on the two of them.

Within moments, the zombies and skeletons were approaching them, and Jack cackled madly.

“Where is that daughter of Bastet?” he taunted them. “Chased off by Old Scratch’s dog. Now it’s just the two of you—with no way to stop me!”

“What do we do?” Illya asked, gripping his partner’s arm

“We’ve only got one shot…” Napoleon said, realizing that there was no way out with the monsters drawing in closer. He handed Illya the three vials of holy water and the hamsa amulet. “Take these and stop Jack; I’ll draw them off long enough.”

To Illya’s horror, Napoleon pulled free from his grip and ran off, hollering at the creatures to draw their attention. The zombies and skeletons, repelled by the holy objects that Illya was holding, were gladly ignoring him to focus on Napoleon.

“Napoleon!” he yelled. “Napoleon, come back! Stay with me; you’ll be safer…”

But the way back to Illya’s side was already blocked off by the creatures, and soon, Napoleon had no way of escape on any side.

“ _Nyet_!” he cried.

He tried to push past them crowd of creatures closing in on Napoleon, but though the crowd parted near Illya on account of the holy items he carried, the creatures had already seized Napoleon, who was cringing under their touch.

“You put up a good fight,” Jack taunted Napoleon. “You came very close! Ah, but you mustn’t be too hard on yourself for losing in the end—you never would have beaten me! I said that I would give you until sunrise to defeat me, but, in all honesty, I tire of this now; without the cat, you are nothing. It’s clear to me that is the case, so I see no point in drawing this out any further…”

Napoleon let out a frightened cry that was quickly cut off as one of the zombies grabbed his throat in an iron grip. With the other zombies and skeletons holding his arms and legs, he couldn’t so much as struggle against it.

“Kill him,” Jack sneered.

The zombie’s grasp on Napoleon’s neck tightened further, and, realizing in horror that Illya would never reach him in time, he quickly paged through the book for some sort of protection spell.

“‘If Death doth creep towards a player as he engages in this fight, let the way of the vampires now protect him and carry him on the wings of the night!’” Illya read. A cry now left his throat now as a purple light shone from the book, arched through the air, and struck Napoleon, illuminating him in the unnatural light as an odd, unreadable expression formed upon his face.

It dawned on Illya a moment later that this might not have been the protection spell he’d had in mind—and his worries were confirmed as Napoleon’s upper canine teeth suddenly extended. But Napoleon no longer seemed to be in any pain, and Jack suddenly looked very concerned as with just a twist of his body, Napoleon successfully knocked all of the zombies and skeletons away from him. Napoleon then sought his partner’s gaze, but Illya could only sink to his knees.

“Oh, Napoleon, _moy Dorogoy_ …” he whispered. “What have I _done_ to you!?”


	5. Act V: The Wings of the Night

Napoleon didn’t say anything for a moment; he was glancing at himself, and at his hands, as though trying to see if there was a difference. He then ran his tongue over his teeth, pausing at the elongated canines, and then glanced at himself in a pocket mirror.

“You…” Jack said, stunned. “You have a reflection!?”

Napoleon then turned at Jack, glaring at him. Without even waiting for him to say a word, Jack retreated, and the zombies and skeletons fled right behind him.

Illya, on the other hand, hobbled towards his partner.

“Napoleon…” he whispered. “Forgive me.”

“For what?” Napoleon asked. “Illya, you saved me.”

“If by ‘save,’ you mean condemned you to a worse fate,” Illya said. “I wanted to save your life—instead, I have made you one of the undead!”

“I don’t think so…” Napoleon said, and he placed two fingers on his neck. “Still got a pulse.”

“What…?” Illya asked. He, too, placed his fingers on Napoleon’s neck, and felt the pulse, as well, and noted that Napoleon’s skin was still warm. “Then… You are a vampire, but a _living_ vampire? Is that why you have a reflection still?”

“I guess so,” Napoleon said, with a shrug. “But we can figure out how it works later; this has thrown Jack for a loop, and we can use this opportunity to get the drop on him. Here, give me those…”

“Napoleon, a vampire can’t--!” Illya stopped in midsentence as Napoleon took the three vials and the hamsa amulet from him without any negative reaction. Well, if he had a reflection, why not this, too?

“Jack went towards the house; he’s probably hiding inside,” Napoleon said, not thinking anything about the fact that he, as a vampire, could handle holy objects without any trouble. Illya stared for a moment before following, paging through the book to search for some sort of an explanation as he ran after Napoleon.

Napoleon was focused on the mission to stop Jack that he barely noticed Zero materializing beside him.

“What are you!?” Zero sputtered, staring at Napoleon as though he was something from another world. “How is this possible!? How can a vampire hold holy waters and a hamsa without feeling any pain!?”

Napoleon glared at him and waved the waters and amulet in Zero’s direction, causing him to back off with a curse.

“I see…” Zero hissed, scowling. “Somehow, your heart is still pure. But for how long, I wonder?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You are now a vampire. And vampires fall to darkness eventually. It is only a matter of time,” Zero smirked. “All I have to do is wait. …You know, you haven’t eaten all day. Aren’t you hungry? Or thirsty? I am sure that your partner will be a willing blood donor if it means sustaining you.”

Napoleon gave him an absolutely furious look.

“You can look at me like that all you like; you are not above temptation. And even if you were, what do you think is going to happen to you if you do stop Jack and send him and his ilk to the other dimension? Might I remind you that you are now a creature of the night like them—pure heart or not, you will end up dragged to this dimension, as well. And I can tell you that a pure heart such as yourself won’t be lasting long there—not without adapting to the ways of darkness. Of course, I could work things so that you would not have to be banished; you just have to say the word--”

“Get away from me!” Napoleon snarled, waving the waters and amulet in his direction again. “There’s enough holy water here to deal with you and Jack! Just try me!”

Zero cursed again and vanished, and Illya caught up.

“What did he say!?”

“Never mind,” Napoleon said, shaking his head. “He’s just doing what he does best; we don’t have time for him right now.”

“Right,” Illya sighed.

The two of them ran to the porch of the house, undisturbed by Jack, Zero, or anyone. Illya went in first, but Napoleon halted at the threshold.

“Ah…” he said. “Okay, so the ‘can’t enter places unless invited’ thing apparently applies to living vampires, too…”

“Come on in,” Illya sighed, and Napoleon was able to enter after that. 

The moment gave the American a reason to pause and think about Zero’s warning of him being dragged to the dark dimension if they reversed all that Jack had done. It was a horrifying thought—and yet, Napoleon knew that Jack could not be allowed to continue his rampage for another year.

“Illya?” he said, as they began to search the house.

“Hmm?”

“We already agreed that the most important thing is to stop Jack, right?”

“Right.”

“No matter what the cost, right?”

Illya looked back at him.

“You have something horrible to tell me.”

“Well, it’s… bad, but it could be worse…” He briefly explained about the dilemma, only to receive a horrified look from Illya.

“How could things be worse!?”

“Well, even if I end up in this dimension, at least I’ll be alive? That’s better than the alternative, isn’t it?”

“No!” Illya insisted. “Napoleon, the entire reason I did not want to get involved in this fight with Jack was because I was afraid of losing you! I knew this was going to happen! I lose everyone important to me; why would this have been any different!? Why should Illya Kuryakin keep those who are close to him!?”

Illya almost never got emotional, but this was a very harsh exception; Napoleon was startled to see Illya blinking back tears.

“Everything that I have done these last 24 hours was to try to work things so that I would not lose you,” Illya continued. “I tried to keep you away from the fight. I tried to help get these holy waters and the amulet when it was clear we had to fight. And now you mean to tell me, that after all we have done to gain the upper hand, after I did this to you to save your life… In spite of it all, I _still_ have to lose you!?”

Napoleon drew Illya into a tight embrace, wishing he had something he could say to bring his partner some comfort.

“Tell me one thing, Napoleon,” Illya said, bitterly. “Why does your God allow such things to happen? I am not even thinking of myself now—though, I am convinced, after losing so much in my life, I feel I should be owed some explanation as to why. But I am thinking of you. You, who constantly goes out of your way to help people, who, by the admission of the Devil himself, has a pure soul… Why does your God treat you like this?”

“I don’t know,” Napoleon admitted. “And I also don’t know why you’ve had to suffer through so much. But I guess that part of faith is believing in something even if you don’t know all the answers.” He exhaled. “You once said that, though you don’t believe in much, you believed in us.”

“Yes. I meant that. I still do.”

“Then have faith in us,” Napoleon said. “Have faith that the two of us will somehow make it through this together. I love you, Illya. And you know I’m going to do my darndest to make sure that you and I grow old together.”

Illya sighed, but nodded, and Napoleon now took him by the hand and led him up the stairs. Despite his worries and fears, Illya had to admit that Napoleon’s grip—augmented by his vampire strength, was slightly reassuring.

As they reached the attic, they could hear Jack muttering furiously from the roof of the house.

“Doesn’t make sense, doesn’t make sense…” he fumed. “A vampire with a reflection? How is it possible…?”

Napoleon placed a finger to his lips, and indicated the trapdoor that led to the roof. Illya stood on a box and opened the trapdoor a crack, and promptly closed it after taking a peek, shaking his head.

“He is not alone; he has a small guard of zombies, skeletons, and ghosts protecting him,” he whispered.

“Then we’re going to have to do this the way we usually do things—with teamwork,” Napoleon said. He handed the holy waters and amulet back to Illya. “Use these to protect yourself as you go through the trapdoor. And then—and this is very important—stall Jack long enough by saying that I’ve run off into the night—turned to the darkness, or something catchy like that, and that you blame him, since it was because of him that you had to turn me into a vampire.”

“I can manage that. But why?”

“Because I’m going to construct a little something out of all this junk that will give me a boost and let me crash right through that roof directly under the spot where he’s floating. Hopefully, I’ll have the element of surprise long enough to get the lantern from him. You be ready with the waters.”

“Very well, I will do as you say,” Illya said. “But after the task is done, you must not question any of the actions I take.”

Napoleon blinked, but nodded.

“Have faith, Tovarisch,” he said. “And remember, no matter what happens… I love you.”

He placed his hand gently on Illya’s face, and Illya nodded, touching Napoleon’s hand with his.

“I love you, too.”

Illya leaned in for a kiss, but a scrambling up on the roof caused them to pull apart; Napoleon hid behind an old dresser as Illya threw open the trapdoor and clambered out, waving the vials and the amulet.

“You!” Illya fumed, playing his part well. “You are the reason my partner turned to the shadows!”

“‘Tisn’t my fault! You were the one who cast the spell on him! You should have kept better control of him!” He pointed to the book. “Consider yourself lucky that you weren’t bitten!” Jack now grinned. “Or… knowing you, you probably would have enjoyed that, wouldn’t you? Do not deny that is what is in your heart deep down—the thought of being romanced by your vampire lover—to be turned into one by his bite upon your neck as he held you in those strong, vampiric arms…! I saw you back there—behind your horror was desire! Tee-hee, tee-hee, you are blushing!”

Napoleon, who was busy assembling a makeshift springboard, was trying very hard not to react to the conversation going on—or the fact that Illya didn’t seem averse to the idea of being bitten by him. …In fact, Napoleon half-suspected that Illya had been considering either that or casting the vampire spell upon himself so that wherever Napoleon ended up, Illya would go, too.

Napoleon shook his head; he’d worry about that later.

“We’ve got to stop Jack first…” he murmured, as he began to climb his contraption.

“Do you, though?” Zero’s voice taunted him.

Napoleon looked down, freezing at the sight of Zero smirking up at him.

“I’m offering you one last chance to accept my help,” Zero said. “Your plan is grasping at straws—and even then, it punishes you. Your partner is right, you know—you put up with all sorts of hardships in spite of all the good you attempt to do. What do you get out of it? And why do you settle for it when I can give you so much more?”

“I never asked anything from you.”

“But I can give you what you desire most in this world—to be with your lover. You heard his reaction to the thought of you romancing him as a vampire. And don’t try to deny that you weren’t going to find the thought pleasant too! Wouldn’t you want to make your beloved happy?”

“Illya’s happiness is the most important thing in the world to me,” Napoleon agreed. “I’m not denying that.”

“Then, I take it you’ll sign my deal?” Zero asked eagerly, materializing the contract in his hand.

Napoleon smirked.

“Never. Because if I did, Illya would never be happy.”

Without saying another word, he leaped from his makeshift springboard, crashing through the roof. Jack was momentarily distracted and stunned by his appearance, and Napoleon once again grabbed the lantern from him.

“Illya!” he called, holding the lantern in his hand as he sprinted towards him.

“NO!” Jack shrieked, diving for it.

But Illya had already removed the caps of the vials the moment Napoleon had crashed through the roof; the moment Napoleon brought the lantern within reach, he poured the three holy waters on the lantern.

With a furious hiss, the coal was extinguished, and Jack screamed in horror and frustration.

“You can have this back!” Napoleon snarled, tossing the extinguished lantern at him. “And with that… We’ve won.”

He snapped his fingers, and the portal appeared in the sky above the old house, and a strange force began to draw the spirits, skeletons, zombies, gargoyles, and other beasties back into it—with the still-screaming Jack being the first to be pulled in.

Illya now threw his arms around Napoleon and pulled him down so that they were lying together on the roof. Napoleon hesitated for a moment before wrapping his strong, vampire arms around Illya and passionately kissing him.

Illya returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around Napoleon, as though fearing he would be carried away as Zero had taunted. But then, something strange came over him as his grip increased exponentially.

The two of them pulled away, and Napoleon caught a glimpse of Illya feeling newly-grown fangs in his mouth with his tongue. Somehow, Napoleon had succeeded in turning Illya, too—not with a bite, but with True Love’s Kiss.

They kissed again, and this time, it felt as though they were being swept off of their feet, hovering in midair, but their iron grips on each other prevented them from flying off into the portal.

And then, suddenly, it was over. The strange force stopped, and the portal closed, and the two of them fell back onto the roof of the old house. The book that had caused all the trouble fell beside them, landing opened, as the first rays of the sunrise appeared on the horizon.

Neither of the two moved for a moment, and when they finally did, they noticed that their arms, though still wrapped around each other, weren’t as strong a grip as they had been moments ago, and as they pulled back from each other, they saw that their upper canine teeth were now back to normal size.

“I’m… not a vampire anymore,” Napoleon realized. “And neither are you.”

“So it would seem…” Illya said. The two of them sat up as Illya glanced at the book beside them. “It’s explained here on the page with the spell I used to turn you…” he realized. “‘If a vampire turned by this spell and remaining pure of heart can turn another human with True Love’s Kiss, then the spell on both will be reverse just before sunrise, and the two will live together in bliss.’”

“Is that applicable to any night—not just Halloween?”

“It would seem so.”

“…I see,” Napoleon said. “Remind me to take a Polaroid of this page when we get the book back to the car.”

“Napoleon…!” Illya chided.

“…Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that.”

Illya paused, but then shrugged.

“Well… just this one page couldn’t hurt…”

They glanced at each other and then burst into giggles—and then into full-out laughter as they both guffawed in sheer relief.

It felt good to laugh again.

**Epilogue**

Baba Yaga and Sergei greeted Napoleon and Illya warmly as they made their triumphant return to U.N.C.L.E. HQ. Not only had they brought back the book, but they had also brought the THRUSH agents that Jack had captured—all of them found in the old house, scared out of their wits.

“You’re both to be congratulated, of course,” Waverly said, as Illya quietly spoke to Baba Yaga as he held her. “And you’ll be pleased to know that Baba Yaga and Sergei did marvelously in keeping the office safe in your absence. Even the other cats in the animal facility aided them.”

“We’re glad everything turned out the way it did, Sir,” Napoleon said.

“As we all are,” Waverly agreed. “And it would seem that adoption rates of cats have exponentially increased in the last 24 hours—a good deal of stray cats in the city have found loving homes just in time for the winter.”

“Now that _is_ good news,” Illya said, sounding pleased to hear that.

“Let’s just hope their services as spirit wranglers won’t be required,” Napoleon mused, quietly.

“Indeed, Mr. Solo,” Waverly said. “So, it would seem that all’s well that ends well! …Although Victor here is a bit reluctant to part with the book; it seems his cousin is perfectly alright with it staying locked up here in our building, but I do think Victor wanted it back.”

“Well, it _is_ family property…” Marton mumbled. “Anyway, I’m letting you keep those treacherous agents who stole my book in the first place.”

“Oh, shut up,” Illya muttered. “Your blasted book is the reason for all of this trouble! There is not one single beneficial thing in that book!”

Napoleon coughed.

“Fine, there is _one_ beneficial thing,” Illya corrected himself.

Waverly cast Napoleon and Illya a suspicious look, but said nothing.

“The book will be locked away, where no one can be tempted to summon anything,” he insisted. “Now, then, Victor and I have some… other matters to discuss; why don’t the two of you take the rest of the week off. I do believe you’ve earned it.”

The two of them thanked him, and after leaving Sergei back with George, they took Baba Yaga back to the apartment. It was only after they saw her curl up in a sunbeam and doze off that they realized that they hadn’t slept in over 24 hours.

The two of them promptly crashed into bed.

“You know,” Napoleon said, holding up the polaroid. “We could sleep all day and use this spell again tonight to be a couple of vampires on the town.”

“Oh, Napoleon,” Illya sighed. “I think we should reserve that as an insurance policy—for the next time one of us ends up in mortal peril on a mission.”

“…Good thinking,” Napoleon said. “Now that I think about it, I’m ready to put this whole thing behind me.”

“Is it behind you?” Illya asked.

“Why do you ask?” Napoleon said through a yawn.

“Well, for one thing, you placed the hamsa amulet on the doorknob,” Illya said. “…You are afraid Zero might try to come back.”

“Yeah,” Napoleon admitted.

Illya exhaled.

“I do not know what it is that drives him to try to claim your soul,” he said. “But whatever the reason… I will make sure he doesn’t succeed.”

“You will?”

“Yes. And the next time something unexplained happens to us…” Illya sighed. “I will still despise it. I will still fear it. But I will also know that we will get through it, together.”

“Darn right we will,” Napoleon said, squeezing his hand.

The two of them fell asleep in each other’s arms soon after, hopeful for the future ahead.

****

**The End**


End file.
